


Pleasantly Overpowered

by OrmondSacker



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Overstimulation, Sensory Overload, Smut, slightly kinky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 17:56:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10417914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/pseuds/OrmondSacker
Summary: Baze have only tried to top Chirrut once since Chirrut lost his sight and that was a spectacular disaster that left Chirrut shaking from the sensory overload. Now Chirrut wants to try again.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/gifts).



> Of course I chose the porny rout, so I picked this prompt: "If filler prefers the explicit route, Chirrut riding Baze". Hope you enjoy it.

The open mouthed kisses they share have not yet taken on the edge of hunger, but are filled instead with the lazy exploration born from years worth of familiarity with each other's bodies. At thirty they are both in their physical prime and though Chirrut now dedicates more of his time to martial arts than Baze who focuses more on scholarly pursuits, Baze can still on occasion put him on his back out on the practice field. But at this moment, the sparring mat is the furthest thing from the mind of both men. 

Sitting on their bed and facing one another their hands are wandering underneath clothes, seeking the places they both know the other likes to be touched most, firmly caressing in one place, barely skirting skin others, drawing soft gaps and eager sounds with each touch. 

Chirrut slides his hands across Baze's chest beneath his shirt, enjoying the sensation of the fabric's soft texture against the back of his hands, juxtaposed by the smooth skin and hard muscles beneath his palms. There are few things in life he enjoys as much as lazily exploring him husband's body and none that he enjoys more. Sensing the joy that Baze takes from this only adds to Chirrut's pleasure as it flows through Baze's skin into Chirrut's hand. 

Baze in turn has pushed the top of Chirrut's robe halfway off his shoulders, kissing and petting every bit of skin he can reach, fingertips skimming over the taunt muscles of Chirrut's biceps. The hard calluses on Baze's fingers from weapons practice are a sharp juxtaposition to the soft curls of his breath on Chirrut's skin and the contrast sends warm waves through Chirrut. 

Then Baze's mouth is back on Chirrut's in another of those warm, lazy kisses. 

"Planning on undressing me any time soon?" he asks Chirrut when he pulls away again. "Or do you intend to fuck me with all my clothes on?" 

The words conjures a vivid sensory image in Chirrut's mind. _Baze's lovely skin trapped beneath the woven robe,_ _both textures against Chirrut's skin_ _while he's-_  

Chirrut dismisses the image with a silent reprimand to himself, though the image is lovely indeed. He has other plans. 

"You know," Baze purrs as he kisses Chirrut's throat. "I like that idea."  

The heated note in his husband's voice, along with his eager hands and mouth, almost makes Chirrut falter and change his mind. But no, he _does_ have other ideas. 

Of course, if Baze isn't amenable to those they can always go back to this one. 

"Actaully," Chirrut says as slides his hands that are still trapped beneath the shirt, around to rest on Baze's back, relishing the broad solidity of it. "I would like you to fuck me." 

He feels Baze go completely still beneath his hands at his words.  

This is no more than Chirrut had expected. They have only tried this once since he lost his sight and that time had been a spectacular disaster. He had been newly blind then and the experience had been overwhelming, overloading his remaining senses, leaving him shaking in Baze's arms for over an hour before regaining control of himself. 

But that had been several years ago and he has got a much better grip since. He haven't brought it up before because on a whole he has been happy with the way things are, but lately he's begun to miss having Baze take him. 

"Are you sure?" Baze asks quietly. 

"That it'll work? No. That I want to try it? Yes." 

Baze's rumbling chuckle fills the room, caressing Chirrut with its gentle touch. 

"Now you really need to get me out of these clothes," Baze says. 

A wave of relief floods Chirrut at the quiet joy in his husband's voice, which as always sparks his impish side. 

"You're old enough to undress yourself old man." 

Playfully Baze pushes him down onto the mattress, lightly pinning Chirrut beneath him. A flare of longing lances through Chirrut at the weight holding him down. 

"I'm only five months older than you," Baze mock growls. 

"Positively ancient then," Chirrut laughs, but finds himself silenced by a kiss before he can continue. 

There is an edge in this kiss, a hint of fervor that was lacking before and the heat of it goes straight to Chirrut's groin. 

"Well then," Baze mutters against his lips. "Seeing as I _am_ the senior here, I assume I must take responsibility." As he speaks Chirrut can feel Baze tug at his robe, sliding it fully off his chest. 

Chirrut feels Baze's hands and mouth exploring his skin as the other man slowly undresses him. His husband knows each tender spot on Chirrut's body and exactly how he likes them touch, a knowledge he now uses with almost ruthless efficiency. It takes only moments before Chirrut is gasping and squirming beneath Baze, exalting in the fire flowing through his veins and pooling low in his belly. 

When Baze pulls off Chirrut's pants he's already achingly hard and when his husband swipes his tongue across the tender inside of his thigh Chirrut breathes a quiet but firm, "Stop".  

Baze immediately pulls back. 

"Too much?" he asks. 

Chirrut pushes up so he is seated between Baze's legs and pulls him in for a sloppy, passionate kiss. 

"In a way. If I let you continue like that, this will be over before we get to do anything else." 

"Can't have that," Baze mumbles, voice muffled by Chirrut's kisses. 

"Now undress," Chirrut says as he pulls back from the kiss. "I want to see you strip." 

He can practically hear the blindness quip forming on Baze's tongue, but the words are never spoken aloud. Instead Baze mutely sits back and begins to take off his clothes. 

The sound of woven cotton sliding over skin and silk brushing against the coarser weave of the outer robe, fills Chirrut's world. Then there is the subtle sound of skin sliding against skin as Baze draws a hand across his chest. 

"I didn't think you'd make a show," Chirrut says, his voice a little choked. 

"You did tell me to strip." There is a slight emphasis on the last world. 

"Mmmm, I did, didn't I?" 

Socks are next, Baze removing them as slowly as possible, the measured drag teasing Chirrut mercilessly. Once they are gone Baze moves to his pants. 

First belt. Chirrut can almost feel it in his hands, the smooth texture of the leather, the chill metal of the buckle, slipping through his digits as it is undone.   

The excruciating languidness with which Baze removes his pants becomes a physical sensation on Chirrut's skin. Chirrut's breathing is labored and ragged, his arousal like molten lava moving through him, hot, slow and inexorable. 

Finally naked, Baze scoots up against the headboard. The small chuckle he lets out as he studies Chirrut makes Chirrut shiver, the shifting air currents caressing his skin. He lets out a soft, shaky breath at the sensation. 

"You look like a vision sitting like that," Baze says, his voice rumbling and half an octave lower than usual. The sound comes close to short circuting Chirrut's brain. "You know exactly what every move I make is, don't you?" 

The sound of Baze's fingers dragging over the skin of his chest, then dipping lower across his abdomen draws a soft gasp from Chirrut, a sound that turns into a near whine when it is followed by the coarse drag of them through his pubic hair. 

"Baze." His voice is pleading, but what he is asking for he does not in that moment know. 

Finally Baze takes mercy on him and stops his hand. Chirrut exhales explosively, sagging forward, resting on his hands. Breathing deeply, Chirrut fights to get himself back under some semblance of control. 

The bed shifts as Baze moves close again, touching Chirrut's hair with one hand, playing with the fine strands. 

"You really do look like a vision like this, you know. I wonder..." 

"Yes?" Chirrut says, his voice sounding steadier than he feels. 

"I wonder how far I could take you in that way, with you just listening to me. If I could take you apart completely without hurting you." 

They have never really tried to play with Chirrut's fine tuned senses, Baze always careful not to cause an overload in intimate situations, unwilling to do anything that could cause his husband pain. But the idea holds a great appeal to Chirrut in that moment, the feeling of Baze touching him without having his hands on his body had been intoxicating. 

Baze brushes a kiss against Chirrut's temple. 

"I would like to try that some time," Chirrut replies. "See if you can do that. You were certainly doing a good job just now," he chuckles. 

"Next time perhaps," Baze whisper against his hair. "You had other plans for tonight." 

Chirrut turns his head and kisses him. "Hand me the bottle," he says, his voice sounding more than a little hoarse to his own ears. 

His mind focuses intensely on the cool, smooth texture of the clay bottle Baze hands him and the slippery viscosity of the liquid pouring over his fingers. 

The bed creaks and rustles as Baze once more settles back to watch Chirrut. 

"You cleaned yourself earlier?" Baze asks him. 

Chirrut nods, finding his voice non-functional. 

He had and had briefly thought of preparing himself as well, but he wants Baze to see this and feel the weight of his intent gaze on his skin as he opens himself up. 

Chirrut reclines on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow and spreading his legs, both to give himself better access and Baze a better view. 

Sliding two fingers between his testicles he can't help but moan, the smooth feel of the slick fingers skirting over his skin, nearly too much all on their own. The digits dip between his cheeks and finally finds his entrance. 

He's tempted to push both fingers into himself at once, his body aching with anticipation and desire. But it has been a long time since he last did this and patience is a virtue, though not one he practices often, so instead he lets just his middle finger dip inside, up to the first knuckle, feeling the muscle clench around it. 

The hitch in Baze's breath lances through Chirrut with a sharp spike of lust and it makes him feel daring. He pushes the finger further in, pulls it out the back in again, relishing his husband's harsh breaths and how each of them sends another wave of lust through him. 

Chirrut can feel the tendrils of Baze's longing coil around his mind and spirit, holding him close, trapping him in their loops, their heat inflaming him further. 

One finger quickly becomes two, then three as he finds himself shaking beneath the onslaught of both physical, sensory and spiritual sensations that leaves him breathless and needy. 

"Chirrut."  

The rough catch in his husband's voice nearly proves Chirrut's undoing and he has he retract his fingers as he fights to control himself. 

"Do you have any idea how you look?" The broken edges in Baze's voice, drags over Chirrut's skin and curls around his cock like the sharp sides of an uncut Kyber crystal. "Flushed and quivering with desire, preparing yourself for me, showing yourself to me as you do? Any idea what it makes me want to do to you?" 

Chirrut laughs. 

"I should hope it makes you want to fuck me." 

Calloused hands cups his face, the rough patches of skin a delicious torment. The press of soft lips in a rough, hungry kiss sends Chirrut's senses spiraling, barely aware of the whine that escapes his throat. The drip of precome from Baze's cock drizzling down his thigh burns him, leaving him gasping and pleading into his husband's mouth. 

Hesitance floods from Baze and he pulls back, sliding one hand around to cup the back of Chirrut's head. 

"Chirrut, breath. Breath and calm down." 

Chirrut knows what Baze is doing, offering him a path back to himself, to control, but there is nothing he wants less in this moment. He grabs hold of Baze's face, the smooth cheeks and short well trimmed beard burning his nerves, threatening to dissolve his skin which is the only thing that is keeping him in some semblance of form. Without it Chirrut thinks he might disintegrate, but that seems irrelevant at this moment. 

He uses his hold to push Baze down on his back, eagerly kissing his mouth as he does. 

"Let go," Chirrut whispers heatedly. "Let go and take me." 

Baze is shaking beneath him, hands now resting on Chirrut's hips, holding him still. 

"Ride me," Baze whispers back, words half swallowed by Chirrut's mouth. 

Chirrut fumbles for the bottle, coats his hand and slowly strokes Baze's cock, the pulsing blood vibrating through his palm and up his arm. Baze groans into his mouth, his fingers flexing on Chirrut's hips leaving marks from their strength. They lift him up and drag him forward until Chirrut has to let go of the shaft and feels the head pressed up against his entrance. 

"Ride me," Baze says again, a growl now in his voice. 

Chirrut lets go of his face and slides one hand to rest on Baze's shoulders to balance himself, then pushes down. 

Though of average size, Baze still feels huge – it's been so long – and Chirrut has to pause and breathe after taking the head. It stretches him wide enough that there is that almost hurt that he recalls from their early days and he knows to hold still, even though everything in him is clamoring to press on. 

Baze's hands slides from his hips up to his waist, thumbs caressing the smooth, taunt skin of Chirrut's abdomen. 

There are no words from either of them, only the rasping of their breath. The sound of it plays over Chirrut's skin like nails, harsh and tempting, compelling him onwards. 

The muscles in his thighs tremble with restraint as he slowly sinks down on Baze's cock and he has to make a conscious effort to not just try and impale himself. His desire nearly runs off with him, but he knows Baze will not forgive himself easily if Chirrut gets hurt, even if it's Chirrut's own fault, so he holds back. 

He bottoms out with a soft sigh, enjoying the feeling of the hard length filling him up, the way the blood pulses beneath the skin, its rapid thrum matching his own racing heart. 

"You-" Baze's voice shatters and breaks as he speaks that one word, but his words continues in his touch. The hand that slides up Chirrut's flat chest saying ' _you are_ _beautiful_ ', the one that circles around to the small of his back proclaiming ' _you are part of me_ ', his shivering body between Chirrut's legs declaring ' _I am one with you and you are one with me_ '. 

Chirrut lets his own hand offer a brief caress across Baze's shoulders, pressing his fingers against firm muscle and solid bone. 

He pulls up and away from Baze just enough that he feels the head of his cock drag over his prostate, sending sparks through him, only to immediately push back down causing a second flare along his nerve endings. Baze shudders and gasps beneath him, the feel of the shifting air currents on his skin as sweet as any touch his husband has ever given him. 

Encouraged Chirrut continues, sliding part way off then quickly pushes back down. Each time he moves Baze trembles and groans, but his hands never stills in their exploration of Chirrut. 

It's far too much and not nearly enough at the same time. The groans and gasps chases over Chirrut's skin, caresses his ears and drives him towards desperation. Finally one of the worshipping hands finishes its journey by circling around Chirrut's cock. A jolt of sensation lashes up his spine, searing every nerve it crosses on its way and floods him with pleasure at his release. The wet sound of his come splashing across Baze's abdomen twines itself around his bliss. 

Chirrut goes still when he comes as does Baze beneath him and they both remain like that for a while, Baze's hands now resting easily on Chirrut's hips again. Then the strong hands tugs gently, trying to dislodge Chirrut from his perch. 

"Come on, off you go." 

Baze's voice is still cracked and his cock still hard, nudging Chirrut's insides. 

Chirrut shakes his head. 

"Let me finish you this way," he whispers, his own voice broken at the edges too. 

The sigh Baze lets out is wistful, but still he says, "It'll be too much for you." 

"Let me decide that," Chirrut returns as he leans forward and softly brushes his lips across Baze's. "Let me do this," he whispers. "Let me. Let me." Each sentence punctuated by a gentle kiss. 

Baze takes him by the shoulders and pushes him back upright, fondling his arms, before giving his hips an encouraging little nudge. The unworded ' _go ahead_ _then_ ' is clear to Chirrut. 

He begins to ride Baze again and Baze is right, it is too much.  

The burning sensation in his body rips into him and overwhelms his senses, leaving his mind with no other input but the constant searing along too tender nerves. But he finds that he craves it in a way he had not expected, this total focus, the lack of existing outside this one moment, this one feeling.  

It twines around him, captures him and binds him to his husband, and is answered in turn by Baze's need to claim Chirrut as his and his alone. A need that Baze always keeps chained and leashed, careful not to fetter the man he loves, but sometimes needing to assert himself. Now that desire weaves itself around Chirrut's spirit, holding him fast in this one moment, as the burning holds him in his body. 

There is neither time nor space for him, but he feels the hot liquid fill him when Baze comes and he stills himself. 

There are hands then, gently taking him by the shoulders again and guiding him down onto the bed as he feels Baze's cock pull out of his body. 

With more clumsiness than he has exhibited since he was a young boy, he reaches out for Baze and tugs him near. Baze lies down next to him silently, one hand caressing Chirrut's hair. 

"Why don't you tell me what's on your mind? I can hear your thoughts whirling," Chirrut says. 

"I wonder why you did that?" The careful studied neutrality in Baze's voice tells Chirrut more than words could about the possibility of a guilt trip ahead if he doesn't nip it in the bud. He huffs mentally, as much as he adores Baze's softer side, the gentle giant who will wrap arms strong with corded muscles around him and hold him with tenderness, he wishes that Baze would on occasion use that strength against him in earnest. Outside the practice field. Would stake his claim on Chirrut, as Chirrut has long since staked his claim him. 

"Because I wanted to? Because I wanted that feeling? Because I wanted to give you a way to claim me that you would find acceptable?" 

Chirrut tiredly pushes himself up on one elbow, reaching out one hand and runs it along the edge of Baze's jaw, feeling the short, silky beard beneath his fingers. 

"You are always so damn careful with me. I won't break if handled roughly." 

"I don't want to hurt you, push into more than you can handle. Not again." 

So, there it is. The last time Baze had tried to top him still haunts him though it has been years. Chirrut can't decide if he finds it endearing, amusing or irritating. He knows though that no amount of words will get through to Baze when he's like this, so instead he cups his face with his hands and kisses him with every shred of the passion and tenderness that Baze makes him feel. 

"Does this feel like pain to you?" he says. "Like sacrifice?" 

Baze doesn't answer in words but leans into the kiss, gently pushing Chirrut back down on the bed before beginning to scatter kisses over his face, throat and shoulders. He lets his bearded cheek draw a trail across Chirrut's skin as his mouth moves, the hairs making for a delicious burning sensation that makes Chirrut shiver and gasp, just as each kiss makes the breath hitch in his throat. 

When he feels that he's kissed Chirrut sufficently, Baze lies down on top of him, pinning him to the bed with his body. There is no threat in the gesture, not hint of any danger, yet Chirrut feels a thrill run up his spine at the weight. It is so rare for his Baze to take control, even more so in the years since Chirrut lost his sight. The thrill he feels now tells Chirrut that he has missed it even more than he thought. 

One final kiss is placed at where his throat meets his jaw before Baze puts his head down to rest on Chirrut's shoulder. 

"How are you feeling?" Baze asks. 

"Blissful, happy, tired. A little bit sore, but that was only to be expected." 

"Only a little?" 

"Yes." 

"How about sensitive?" Baze asks as he skims one hand down Chirrut's side, drawing another tremble and a slight gasp from him. 

"Maybe more than a little with that. It will fade, you didn't harm me." 

"Your senses are already so fine tuned, I'd have thought you wouldn't be able to stand this?" 

Chirrut frowns, trying to think of a way to explain it that won't make Baze panic. 

"It was pleasant in its own way. I can't shut down my senses, I can't stop hearing, feeling more. Here instead, I let it overwhelm me." He cups Baze's face with his hand, tilting it up towards him so that his husband will see the expression on his face. "I knew I was safe. I always am with you." 

Baze says nothing, but Chirrut can feel him relaxing as he once more puts his head down on Chirrut's shoulder. 

For several minutes silence reigns in the room as they lie like that, Chirrut running his fingers through Baze's hair. 

"Shouldn't I be the one cuddling you?" Baze asks, his voice lazy with sleepiness, the question little more than idle curiosity to Chirrut's ears and perhaps a means of keeping himself awake so these moments will last a little longer. 

"Next time perhaps. I like having you pin me down like this and I am selfish enough not to want to relinquish that feeling." 

"Then maybe next time I should pin you down first, then I can hold you after." 

"An agreeable idea." 

Baze shifts in his embrace, pushing up on his elbows. Chirrut can feel his gaze on his face. Then Baze puts his hands on Chirrut's shoulders, using his weight to press him into the bed. 

Despite exhaustion and lethargy Chirrut feels embers of lust begin to smolder in his groin at this sudden shift, growing hotter with the knowledge that Baze can feel them too, knows the reaction he's causing in Chirrut. 

"Hmmm, this would be an interesting subject to study." Baze's voice is detached, almost aloof as he speaks and his attempt at almost academic indifference makes Chirrut laugh, so at odds it is with their current position and the rough note of lust in his voice. 

"You were always the more studious of the two of us," Chirrut says lightly. 

"Mmmm." Baze bends his head down and kisses Chirrut, a soft and exploratory kiss. "You know how thorough I tend to be in my research." 

"I do." He is still chuckling between the kisses, enjoying this strange game of pretend that his love has started. If that is what it takes for him to be comfortable, then Chirrut is more than happy to oblige him. "I would love to assist you in any way I can." 

"I'm sure I can think of something." He pulls away. "Next time. Right now I'm too tired." 

"Of course. An old man should have his rest," Chirrut says with ill disguised mirth. 

"I would be a bit more careful who you call old, it might come back to haunt you." 

"I should be so lucky," Chirrut quips. 

Baze just laughs, refusing to rise to the bait, and settles down on Chirrut's shoulder again. Not long after the only sound in the room is that of their rhythmic breathing, slow and steady in sleep. 


End file.
